What happens on Tatooine STAYS on Tatooine, OK?
by l'ombre de tes yeux
Summary: A ridiculous tale of foul-mouthed droids, repressed Padawans, Jedi behaving badly, and the endless dilemma of what to get Yoda for his birthday. Rated for gratuitous swearing, innuendo and general crudeness. Disclaimer: Own Star Wars, I do not.
1. 1: The Trouble Radar

'Right. Park over there, Obi.'

Qui-Gon points to a space that's barely big enough to fit a scout ship in, jammed between a Corellian cruiser and the wall of the dock.

'What, in there? But there's no room to swing a – '

'Just do it. And don't overhang the bay, either, I still haven't paid off the last parking ticket.'

'Ooh, meeser so excited to be coming to Tatooine again, is been moy moy long time!' Jar Jar gibbers, jumping up and down, causing the pilot's seat to jerk about. Obi-Wan glares at him.

'Jar Jar, would you mind keeping still for two seconds while I dock this rust-bucket?'

'Oi! Don't you call my ship a rust-bucket!' Qui-Gon retorts indignantly, flicking the landing lights on. One of them promptly explodes. 'Granted, it's not top of the line, but it's not _that_ bad! It still flies... just because it doesn't have those fancy chrome fenders and the extra wide drag shelf... at least I've added go-faster stripes – '

'Go-at-all stripes is more like it. OK, engaging landing thrusters now...'

'Mind the wall – '

SKREEEE_CRASH_

'Blast. Sorry Master, I didn't realise we were so close,' Obi-Wan mutters sheepishly. Qui-Gon pinches the bridge of his nose.

'I did say mind the wall, didn't I? Now we're going to have to see Watto again and pretend to bargain for spare parts. Good going, Obi. We've only been here five minutes and we're already neck-deep in trouble.'

'Is weeser there yet? Meeser wanna get outta this tin can!'

'Patience, Jar Jar, we'll get out soon enough. Oh, Master, there's a message coming through from Coruscant. It's from the Council.'

Qui-Gon sighs.

'Probably to tell me I left the lights on at home or some damn thing. Alright, put it on.'

A miniature holograph of Mace Windu appears in the message panel, looking very grumpy.

'Greetings, Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi. The Jedi Council wishes to know precisely what the hell you're doing on Tatooine when we sent you to Brentaal,' he says testily.

'Sorry, Mace. I fell asleep at the helm and flew right past it. We only really planned to stop here for fuel, but Obi seems to have destroyed my ship while trying to land it – '

'Only because you told me to park in such a tiny space!' Obi-Wan interjects hotly.

'Never mind that,' Mace snaps. 'I assume you're going to be delayed while you repair your sorry excuse for a ship, Qui-Gon?'

'Um. Yes. Depending on whether I can Force-suggest old Watto into giving me a discount on spare parts again. One of the lights blew out and I think we've lost a landing thruster. Could probably use a new paint job while we're at it, actually...'

'That is not an appropriate use of your Jedi powers, Master Jinn!'

'You wouldn't be saying that if you met him, hairy blue pirate that he is,' Qui-Gon mutters darkly. 'Anyway. We'll be a few days late, I'm afraid. I'll try and get it done quickly. Is there anything else?'

'As a matter of fact, there is. I hope you know about the happy occasion next week.'

'Happy occasion? You mean Wookie New Year?'

'No, that's in June.'

'Oh. Right. I knew that. Er... is it Palpatine's Christmas party?'

'No! And don't talk about that, I still haven't got over the last one!'

'Council's annual holiday?'

'Sadly no. It's Master Yoda's 856th birthday.'

'God, is it? I suppose I'll have to get him a present... we'll try and pick up something here or on Brentaal. Thanks for reminding me.'

'No problem. Jedi Council out.'

The message flickers off. Qui-Gon turns to Obi-Wan, scowling.

'Why didn't you remind me? You know how bad my memory is!'

'Sorry Master, I... didn't remember either. Besides, I didn't think Master Yoda would want much in the way of birthday presents.'

'For someone who places no value on personal possessions, he sure kicks up a stink when we don't get him anything. Alright, let's get out of here.'

They clamber down to the access hatch, where Jar Jar is waiting anxiously.

'Meeser trying the door five time, but it no wanna opening! Weeser stuck in here!'

Obi-Wan sighs and punches the emergency door release switch. It makes a horrible noise, but does not release the door as it is supposed to do, according to the helpful little diagram nearby (on which somebody, probably Jar Jar, has drawn moustaches on all the crew members).

'For once I think he's right, Master. Should we cut our way through?'

'What, and ruin a perfectly good door? No. I'll try and short out the locking mechanism. I advise you to stand back if you value your eyebrows.'

Shmi is waiting anxiously by the gates of the dock, eyeing Qui-Gon's rusty little ship. What on earth is taking them so long? They landed about twenty minutes ago! As she watches, the access hatch flies open with a bang and a cloud of sparks, and two men and a Gungan sprawl out, tumbling down the ramp in a swearing heap of bodies. Shmi suppresses a laugh and hurries over to them. Jar Jar bounds upright and practically knocks her over in rather an over-enthusiastic hug.

'Oh, Shmi, meeser so happy to be seeing you again!' he babbles. She untangles his arms from around her neck because he is in danger of strangling her.

'Nice to see you too, Jar Jar. You boys never did learn to do anything quietly, did you?'

She casts her eye over Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon's hair is frazzled and Obi is rather dirty.

'Sorry about that, Shmi,' Qui-Gon says with a wry grin. 'Obi crashed the ship and the door got jammed. How are you doing?'

'Wait a second, how did you know we were coming?' Obi-Wan asks suspiciously. Shmi and Qui-Gon give each other a slightly panicky look.

'Uh... I had a feeling,' Shmi stammers. 'My trouble radar started flashing, and I knew that was either Ani or you three coming to pay me a surprise visit. Yeah. My trouble radar, that's it.'

Obi-Wan looks politely bemused, and Qui-Gon raises an eyebrow at her. _Good save, _his eyes tell her. Oh God, she thinks, the idiot hasn't even told him. This is going to be awkward.

'Well,' she says brightly. 'You must be tired after your journey. Come on back to my place and I'll cook some dinner.'


	2. 2: A Compromising Position

They make it back to Shmi's house with relatively little incident, apart from Jar Jar getting his ears caught on somebody's washing line and bringing the whole lot down on top of them. While Obi-Wan and Shmi picked up the washing, Qui-Gon hastily placated the old woman who charges over brandishing a stick, telling her most emphatically that she _didn't_ want to bludgeon them senseless, she wanted to go back inside and have a nice cup of tea. It seemed to work, because he escaped with nothing but a few cursory swats around the head for good measure.

'So, how's my son?' Shmi asks fondly as she pours them all coffee. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan share a dark look. Obviously mothers only want to hear good things about their children, but when it's Anakin Skywalker they're talking about...

'He's certainly very... lively,' Obi-Wan says carefully. Qui-Gon snorts.

'That would be one way to describe him. Your son has a penchant for, um, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, shall we say.'

'You don't need to tell _me_ that! Is he progressing with his studies?'

'It's hard to say, considering how seldom he actually turns up for class. He has talent, certainly, but as the Naboo say, you can lead the nerf to water but you can't make it drunk.'

'Master, I believe you mean _can't make it_ _drink._'

'Oh, was that another of those translation errors? I wondered why that politician was looking at me funny. Actually, while we're on the subject of drunk, are there any decent bars around here that aren't going to get trashed as soon as we walk in? I'm sick of having my drink blown out of my hand by rogue blaster bolts, that kind of thing really puts a crimp on my day. Shmi? Any advice?'

'Could try the Pink Bantha, over by the aerodrome. It's Happy Hour from eight onwards.'

'Happy several hours, it sounds like. Master, we can't drink! We're supposed to be on a mission!'

Qui-Gon leans forward conspiratorially.

'Obi-Wan, listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. What happens on Tatooine, stays on Tatooine, is that clear?'

'But what about the Code – '

'I'm also only going to say this once: bollocks to the Code, we're on holiday.'

Obi-Wan heaves a sigh.

'You had no intention of actually going to Brentaal and sorting out the anarchists, did you? I reckon you deliberately fell asleep and missed the hyper-jump.'

'There may have been an element of that, yes – I mean, good heavens, what am I saying? Of _course_ I intend to go and sort out those hotheads... eventually... but while we're here, we may as well take advantage of a few days' leave, right?'

'I thought we had leave next month to go to that retreat on Dagobah?'

'And that's your idea of fun, is it? A meditation camp in a muddy swamp? Come on, Obi, it's Tatooine! It's dirt cheap, there's enough going on already that no one will look twice at a couple of Jedi out on the piss... and most importantly, last orders don't exist in the Outer Rim.'

'Master, we should not be doing this!'

'Oh, would you relax! No wonder I need a holiday when I've got a worry-wart like you around all the time. Look, if it makes you feel any better, we'll go to Brentaal and kick some anarchist butt once the ship is fixed, alright?'

'I don't know... I've got a bad feeling about this...'

'Obi-Wan, you always say that. Your bad feelings are about as reliable as my sense of direction, so I'm sure you'll excuse me if I don't take any notice.'

'You Jedi are crazy, you know that? I can't believe my little Ani wanted to become one of you people! Coming to a flea-pit like Mos Eisley to let your hair down? Ridiculous.'

Obi-Wan shrugs.

'Don't look at me, it was his idea. By the way, where's Jar Jar got to?'

A crash and a panicked yelp from upstairs answers that one. Obi-Wan sighs and gets up.

'I'll sort him out. Expect breakages.'

'So, what really brought you here?' Shmi asks once Obi-Wan has disappeared upstairs and they can hear him yelling at Jar Jar. Qui-Gon rolls his eyes.

'The wine, women and song, obviously. Cheap thrills and all that. I'm on a mission to get Obi laid, because I honestly can't think of anything else that will make him pull his head out of his behind.'

'Charming. This is what Jedi get up to in their free time, is it?'

'Sadly, no. Most of them would actually get a kick out of going on a retreat in Dagobah. However, because I am not completely mental, you wouldn't catch me dead doing a meditation week in an overgrown sewage farm. Even if Yoda's cooking is amazing... which it isn't.'

She raises an eyebrow at him and he slides his hand up her arm.

'That wasn't the _only_ reason I came here, though,' he says reflectively. 'It's good to see you again.'

She shifts closer to him and lays her head on his shoulder.

'Oh yes? Prove it,' she teases. He shrugs.

'I came back again, didn't I? How much more proof do you need?'

'Ooh, you arrogant git!'

She grabs his head and kisses him soundly. It's several minutes before they break apart, both panting slightly.

'Sheesh, Tatooine women, I don't know... randy as all hell, the lot of you,' he grumbles, then yelps as she tugs on his beard.

Some rather involved minutes later, they hear a very embarrassed cough from behind them, the kind of cough that wants to be heard but is trying to be quiet at the same time. Qui-Gon raises his head reluctantly, groaning as he spies his po-faced Padawan leaning in the doorway, and suddenly realises what a compromising position he's in – with the mother of one of his students, no less. Shmi laughs awkwardly. Damn right she feels awkward, no Jedi should be able to do _that _and still get caught by his apprentice.

'Master, I do not believe that is appropriate behaviour for a Jedi,' Obi-Wan says sanctimoniously. Qui-Gon shrugs, removing his hands from somewhere in the voluminous folds of Shmi's kaftan.

'Just as well I'm not a very good Jedi, otherwise I'd be in real trouble.'

'Attachments of this nature are forbidden to us! Surely you know that?'

'Of course I know that, so don't you start lecturing me, you pompous little shit! I also know that the Council throws a few red herrings into the Code. It's a kind of test. Anyone who falls for a rule like that is a gullible sap who obviously isn't fit to wield a lightsabre.'

'Really?'

'No. That was a gullible sap test as well, and you just failed it. Nice one. Like I said, what happens on Tatooine – '

'Stays on Tatooine, yes, I know. I still don't like it.'

'Well don't bloody watch then!'

'What I _actually _came in to say,' Obi-Wan announces after a strained pause, visibly attempting to forget what he's just walked in on, 'is that Jar Jar seems to have broken Threepio. His speech circuits are... severely malfunctioning, to put it lightly.'

Shmi snorts with laughter and the two Jedi shoot her questioning looks.

'Oh yes, I'd been meaning to tell you about that. Threepio's speech circuits have been acting up for quite a while now. I've had to keep him deactivated because it's rather embarrassing.'

'Embarrassing? How do you mean?'

'Well... he isn't very polite these days. And there's this awful poem he keeps reciting when I have guests over: _There was a young woman from Venus, whose body was shaped like a –_ '

'You mean you've got an obscene protocol droid? I _have_ to see this,' Qui-Gon sniggers.

'Can you fix him, Qui-Gon? It's really getting awkward when people come round.'

'Do I look like a droid repairman to you? I might not want to fix him, purely for the comedy value.'

'Master, please, can you act like a proper Jedi for once? Proper Jedi are not amused by things like potty-mouthed droids!' Obi-Wan complains. Qui-Gon sighs.

'Come on, Obi. I have to have something to laugh at in Council meetings besides Yoda's ill-advised attempt to grow a moustache, and an endless supply of dirty limericks will do the job just fine.'

'Well tough luck, because I deactivated him again. Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to sit on an uncomfortable rock and meditate on the nature of the Force like a proper Jedi.'

'You do that. And keep an eye on Jar Jar, please. Unless you're having prophetic visions or something, in which case I admit it's a little difficult to keep your eye on anything.'

'You have prophetic visions?' Shmi asks incredulously. Qui-Gon grins sheepishly.

'I think they're more like alcohol-induced stupors, actually, but I've got to keep up appearances.'

Obi-Wan stalks off with his nose in the air. Shmi sighs.

'I see what you mean about your, um, _other_ mission. That boy needs a good shag like Jabba the Hutt needs liposuction. Still, I can't believe you didn't tell him about us.'

'To be honest, I thought he'd already figured it out and was actually being extremely tactful, or maybe very embarrassed. So much for Jedi second sight. Anyway, where were we...?'


	3. 3: Make My Day, Punk

A couple of hours later, they head out to the Pink Bantha in a speeder that Qui-Gon has acquired from somewhere. The steering's not very good and it makes a horrible whining noise when it goes higher than third gear, but, as Shmi says optimistically, it's better than walking. Five people crammed into a cockpit made for two is rather a squash, particularly when one is a panicky Gungan and another a malfunctioning droid. Threepio's locomotion chip also seems to be on the blink, which results in him making rude gestures uncontrollably and waving his arms about whenever they try and go round a corner.

'Turn left at the space port, Qui-Gon.'

'Threepio, sit down, I can't see if you do that... sorry, what?'

'Turn left, I said! That was not left!'

'Alright, calm down – ack! Who put that wall there?'

They narrowly avoid ploughing into the side of a house as Qui-Gon hauls on the steering column and they swerve past a Dug on a sand-bike, who swears at them and shakes his fist as he crashes into a fruit stall. Jar Jar covers his eyes.

'Meeser gettin very scared! Yousa driving too fast!' he wails, grabbing onto the back of the driving seat. Qui-Gon rolls his eyes.

'_Jar Jar, relax,'_ he intones with a Force suggestion. Jar Jar abruptly slumps sideways onto Shmi's lap and Qui-Gon grins ruefully.

'Whoops. Think I overdid that a bit.'

'Master, anything that makes him shut up can't be too bad. And can you please drive a bit slower?'

A couple of blocks later they get caught in a traffic jam by the bazaar, which seems to be the result of a three-way collision between a Bantha, a speeder and a large pile of dung.

'Remind me again why we came to Tatooine for a holiday, Master?' Obi-Wan remarks snidely.

'You'll see, my young apprentice. You'll see. Traffic jams are all part of the fun.'

'Make my day, punk!' Threepio screams at a passing Jawa, who looks up at him with reproachful yellow eyes and scuttles out the way. Obi-Wan sighs.

'Why did you have to reactivate him? This is getting embarrassing.'

'Yes, I see what you mean... dammit! You distracted me and now I've forgotten where we're going.'

'For heaven's sake, Master, let me drive, will you? You're hopeless!'

'I am not hopeless – oh bugger, I've missed the turning, haven't I? Hang on, I'll try and reverse.'

'Are you insane? You can't reverse in the middle of the freeway!'

'Oh yeah? Watch _this._'

Qui-Gon hauls on the gear stick, attempting to wrestle it into reverse. Instead it gets jammed in fourth gear, making a hideous squealing noise, and they barrel down the road like a misfired blaster bolt. Qui-Gon swears and slams the brake lever down, but they don't stop in time and end up colliding with a refuse heap at the back of a bar. The speeder crashes into the wall, flips over and dumps them all out in an ungainly sprawl, before coming to rest upside down in the sand, the engine coughing feebly.

Two passing Wookies stop and regard the scene bemusedly. One shrugs and turns to the other.

'Ur urrr ur ur urrurhh. Urur urrrh urh.'

[_Translation: See, Dave, what did I tell you? Humans can't drive worth shit.]_

The other nods vigorously and they continue on their way.

'OK, I take it back. That was _not_ better than walking,' says Shmi's disgruntled voice from under a heap of rubbish bags. Qui-Gon groans and sits up, his hair festooned with rotten salad.

'Don't blame me! I didn't know that speeder was so clapped-out... ouch, is this my leg?'

'Oi! No it isn't your leg, it's mine, and I don't appreciate you doing that to it!'

'Sorry, Obi. Where's Jar Jar?'

'Meeser down here. Ooh, this smell like bath house in Gunga City!'

'Yes, thank you for that profound observation about our delightful surroundings. Alright, Threepio?'

'Suck my fat one,' a metallic voice announces from somewhere in the pile. Shmi snorts.

'He's fine, more's the pity. Can someone help me out of here? My arm's stuck in something.'

After much to-ing and fro-ing and several obscenities from Threepio, the bedraggled and rather smelly group manage to dig themselves out, only to come face to face with a Tatooine policeman and a small crowd of onlookers. Obi-Wan shuts his eyes in horror.

'Alright, who's responsible for this?' the cop says resignedly.

'Er... that would be me,' Qui-Gon admits, picking bits of lettuce out of his hair.

'What happened?'

'The gear shaft got jammed and I lost control of the speeder. Sorry about the mess.'

'Several witnesses saw your vehicle performing an illegal manoeuvre on the freeway about ten minutes ago. You were speeding,' the cop says accusingly. Qui-Gon shrugs.

'Look, I'm on Jedi Council business, OK?'

'We weren't expecting any Jedi here for at least another week or two. Are you the guy they sent to deal with the Hutt gambling ring?'

Qui-Gon hesitates a moment, then nods.

'Master, what the hell are you doing?' Obi-Wan whispers. Qui-Gon elbows him.

'Shut up, I'll handle this... sorry, yes, that's me. Hutt mission. Absolutely.'

'Hmm. And what's the Gungan and the woman doing with you?'

'Meeser? Meeser didn't do nothing!'

'Um... they're our informants...' Qui-Gon says uncertainly, kicking Jar Jar in the shins before he starts blathering and blows his cover. The cop snorts.

'Yeah, right. I'm not convinced, but I suppose I'll tell the Council you've arrived. I'm pretty sure you weren't meant to be coming until the end of the month...'

'Change of plan,' Qui-Gon interjects quickly. 'We were in the system and my duty got switched. I'll come and sign in at your headquarters tomorrow, but right now I _really_ need to go to this bar and, er, gather information. Again, I apologise for the illegal reversing, but it was unavoidable.'

'Right. I should fine you, but I'd probably get in trouble with the Council if I did that. I'll let you off this time, but if I catch you again you're getting a caution, Jedi or no Jedi.'

The cop turns away, beginning to move the crowd on. Threepio lurches to his feet and staggers over to the cop, stabbing him in the back with a metal finger.

'Up yours, you pot-bellied scumbag bastard!' he exclaims. Qui-Gon gulps as the cop turns back.

'Is this your droid?'

'Yes. He's, uh, malfunctioning a bit.'

'I can see that! You'd better get him fixed before I arrest him for causing a breach of the peace!'

'Will do. I'm very sorry about that, by the way. Threepio, get back here and stop hassling him!'

'Swivel on it – '

Threepio's voice thankfully goes dead as Obi-Wan hurriedly deactivates him. The cop sighs and shakes his head, walking away. Obi-Wan rounds furiously on Qui-Gon.

'Master, what are you playing at? You know that's not our assignment!'

'OK, so I lied to him. What was I supposed to say? "No, we're not working, we're here for kicks and I crashed a speeder out of gross negligence" – sure, that'd look just great on my record.'

'Your record's shot to hell as it is!'

'Yes, _thank you_, Padawan, I am aware of that. Now, I don't know about anyone else, but if I don't get a drink soon I think my head may fall off.'

'Moy moy, I think meeser head already fallen off,' Jar Jar says plaintively.

'Don't worry, Jar Jar, you won't miss it much. Obi-Wan, you owe me money, so you're buying the first round,' Qui-Gon announces, heaving the inert Threepio up onto his back and heading for the door of the bar. Shmi hurries after him.

'Ah, not so fast. While we're on the topic, I seem to remember that _you_ owe _me_ money...'

'Do I?'

'For that time you broke the shower last year and I had to borrow money off Watto to get it fixed?'

'What time I broke the shower – oh. Yes. _That _time. Funnily enough, I didn't see you complaining when it happened...'

'I can't believe I'm hearing this,' Obi-Wan remarks loftily. 'You're violating the Code and you're _proud _of it. Disgusting.'

Qui-Gon sighs. Just his luck to get lumbered with the only Padawan to misread the 'no-intimate-relations' clause in the Jedi Code and stubbornly refuse to admit his error. Actually all it said was no intimate relations with fellow Jedi, but Obi-Wan, in his usual overzealous way, took it to mean no intimate relations _ever. _It's a wonder he hasn't gone crazy yet. Bring on the Twi'lek dancers...

'What's that look for?' Shmi asks suspiciously. 'What are you thinking about?'

'Hmm? Oh. Twi'leks,' Qui-Gon answers distractedly before he can stop himself. Shmi glares at him.

'Charming. I really don't know what I see in you, Qui-Gon Jinn,' she mutters.

'Hey! I was thinking about them because of my mission involving Obi-Wan, actually – '

'Oh, _sure _you were. Nothing to do with the fact that they're all fabulously attractive and wear very skimpy clothing, of course not.'

'Huh,' Qui-Gon grumbles, 'I'm starting to think Obi was right – women are a damn nuisance... twisting my words, making me sound stupid, I don't know...'

Shmi starts to stalk off in disgust, but he catches her round the waist and pulls her against him.

'I was only kidding, you silly bint,' he says fondly. 'Besides, Twi'leks aren't all they're cracked up to be. They're damn frigid until you get them trolleyed, and those head-tentacle things they wear are quite frankly creepy. Now come on, stop being so bloody hormonal and I'll buy you a drink.'


	4. Intermission

Intermission

Greetings, fellow Star Wars fans. Hope you're enjoying my rather farcical little tale. As you may have guessed, my tongue is planted firmly in my cheek as I'm writing this. Updates may be fairly sporadic, because I don't have a writing schedule, I just write as and when the muses of low-brow comedy grace me with their presence.

I must confess I'm still a bit of a Padawan when it comes to the world of Star Wars. For example, I only know the names of about four planets, and one of them's the Death Star. So if anyone wants to beta-read this for me and help me out with the details – planets, races, minor characters etc – that would be most welcome.

If you are interested, my email can be found on my profile page. I'm not going to write it on here, because it'll just get censored like every single other link that anyone's ever tried to post on this site...

Oh, and because I forgot it in the earlier chapters, here's the disclaimer:

**Own Star Wars I do not. Making money from this I am not. More witty backwards phrases relating to copyright I cannot think of at the moment, but occur to me after I have posted this, one probably will. Shutting up now I am.**


	5. 4: An Authentic Mos Eisley Experience

PART 4: AN AUTHENTIC MOS EISLEY EXPERIENCE

The bar is what the Lonely Planet Guide to Tatooine would call an 'authentic Mos Eisley experience' – which means that it's a sleazy, grimy-walled dive full of blaring music, inter-species nookie in corners and some very nasty arguments, and that's just the front room. The beer's pretty bad too, but on a planet so dry all the water's been recycled about fifty times, what do you expect? Qui-Gon takes a gulp of his pint and grimaces. Shmi laughs.

'You have to admit, there's nothing like a nice lukewarm glass of Desert Juice.'

'Desert Juice? Sounds like a substance that comes out of a horny Tusken Raider's – '

'Ugh, do you mind? I'm trying to eat here!' Obi-Wan exclaims, looking in disgust at his bantha-burger with extra pickles, which is grey and rubbery and has about as much nutritional value as a bowl of Lucky Charms. Qui-Gon, who has experienced the gastronomic rollercoaster ride that is Tatooine bar food – and came out of it unable to ever look at a bowl of peanuts in quite the same way again – tried to warn Obi away from it, but as usual the boy was thinking with his stomach.

'Meeser not feeling so good,' Jar Jar comments plaintively from the other side of the table. He is surrounded by empty and half-empty glasses of various beverages, most of which he 'borrowed' while people's backs were turned. Shmi turns an unsympathetic eye on the hapless Gungan.

'I'm not surprised. I told you not to mix your drinks – well, not that they're precisely _yours_...'

Midway through Shmi's sentence, Jar Jar topples drunkenly off his chair, managing to knock a nearly-full can of mooloo over as he falls. Mooloo, made largely from things that live in slimy ponds on Dagobah, is possibly the most noxious beverage in the universe, and no one except rather foolhardy Gungans would even have nightmares about drinking it (yes, it really is that bad). Obi-Wan hasn't noticed Jar Jar's little accident and continues eating his burger.

'Hmm, this bit tastes OK, but it's all soggy... what's that smell, by the way?'

His voice dies away when he sees Qui-Gon and Shmi staring at him in undisguised horror, then his eyes flick down to the mess on the table. He gags and hastily pushes his plate aside.

'I'll just, er, go and get some cloths or something,' he mumbles in a strained voice and wanders off towards the bar.

'Did he really just do that? I can't believe he just did that,' Shmi groans, still staring after Obi-Wan as if he's suddenly grown an extra pair of arms. Qui-Gon sighs.

'Yes, he did. No, it's certainly not my fault that he has all the street sense and guile of a concussed duckling. Why don't you take Jar Jar outside, I'll sort this mess out...'

Over at the bar, Obi-Wan is waiting for the serving droid to notice him and also trying to get the taste of the contaminated burger out of his mouth, making it look like he's got a really itchy tongue. A hand touches his shoulder and he stares into the face of a gorgeous cerulean-haired Alderaan girl, who is looking at him with a concerned expression.

'Are you alright? You look a bit ill.'

Obi-Wan can't quite find his voice, and he's just noticed he's got a splodge of mooloo on his tunic. Why do things like this always happen to him? She is looking at him quite insistently now, so he straightens his shoulders, swallows firmly and nods. God, she's stunning... No, Obi-Wan, he tells himself, remember the Code!

'Uh, no, I'm... er, I'm fine thanks, er...' he stutters. She raises one perfect blue eyebrow at him.

'Are you sure I can't help you with anything? I work here, you know,' she says helpfully, pointing to her name badge – which is in Tatooine script, so Obi-Wan can't read it. He sighs.

'Well... are there any cloths or napkins or, you know, cleaning things? One of my friends, er, knocked over some, um, mooloo. Made a bit of a mess...'

He then wonders why the hell he admitted that as her face screws up in disgust. She points at a stack of paper napkins right next to his elbow that he didn't even notice.

'Oh, right... thanks...' he mumbles, feeling rather silly, grabbing a handful of them and venturing back to the table, completely unaware of her eyes still on him.

'Who was the hot chick?' Qui-Gon remarks. His voice is muffled by his robe, which is pulled up over his face to blot out the smell of decomposing pond life. Obi-Wan passes him some napkins.

'I don't know, Master. I couldn't read her name tag.'

'You know, Obi-Wan, there is this amazing little question you can ask when you want to know what somebody is called. It goes "What is your name?" You should try it sometime – '

'I know that! I just didn't get a chance! Besides, I'm covered in this disgusting mooloo stuff. Hardly the right look for meeting people and having polite conversation.'

Qui-Gon refrains from commenting on the 'polite conversation' bit, and instead tries to think of some suitably mystical advice for his hopeless apprentice. For God's sake, having to teach a twenty five year old how to pull is just undignified. He finally thinks of something and eyes Obi sternly.

'You only look as good as you feel, young Padawan.'

'What the hell's that supposed to mean?' Obi-Wan snaps, grimacing as he puts his hand in something he'd really rather not think about. Qui-Gon sighs. Maybe that was a little _too_ mystical.

'It means, oh ye of little sense, that if a drop-dead gorgeous woman is talking to you of her own free will, you could at least _look_ like you're enjoying it! When I was your age, I'd do anything for some attention from a girl like that – '

Unfortunately, Shmi chooses that exact moment to return to the table, dragging a rather queasy-looking Jar Jar with her, and she catches the tail end of Qui-Gon's sentence. Her normally pretty face creases into a decidedly un-pretty scowl.

'A girl like _what, _Qui-Gon?' she asks accusingly. Qui-Gon groans.

'Bloody hell, you just had to come back right then, didn't you...'

'Honestly, what is _wrong_ with you? I only have to be gone for five minutes and you're already hitting on some tanked-up floozy – '

'Hey, steady on, I only meant that if I were Obi-Wan, I'd... oh, forget it,' he finishes hopelessly as Shmi stalks off to the women's refresher in a huff.

'See? I knew it. Intimate relations only lead to jealousy and unrest,' Obi-Wan announces smugly. Qui-Gon turns round and gives him a long, measured look.

'Obi-Wan?'

'Yes, Master?'

'Shut up.'


	6. 5: Yousa In Big Doodoo Now

Apologies for not updating in a few days, I just started doing double shifts at my job and things have been pretty hectic. Also haven't been feeling particularly comedic, so this chapter took a while to write and started out dismally un-funny.

Enough of my whining, and on with the anarchy. Sorry if it's a bit short, but as Yoda would say, size matters not...

5: YOUSA IN BIG DOODOO NOW

A couple of hours and several unpleasant drinks later, nobody is in particularly good spirits. Shmi is still giving Qui-Gon nasty looks. Jar Jar is asleep with his head on the table, and Obi-Wan is glaring at him whenever he snores. And the bands are just appalling, although there was a rather good rapper (with a song about Jabba entitled Slidin' Dirty) at the beginning of the night. He, sadly, got hauled off the stage by the Hutt's yes-men ten minutes into his act. Now it's a lame Max Rebo tribute band with a couple of rather overweight dancing girls, and they're sounding progressively worse as the singer gets drunker and more maudlin. Suddenly Qui-Gon's comlink buzzes. He opens it and groans. It's Yoda. And to make matters worse, he's already missed two other calls from the Council. He wonders what the severance pay is for struck-off Jedis these days.

'Master Yoda, hello. What can I do for you?'

'… _scree… crackle_... _crackle_... '

'What's that? I can't hear you!'

'… _scree_... very bad the signal is... _crackle_... dreadful singing I can hear...'

'Hang on, I'll go outside – '

'… _crackleFZZT_... Put me on hold, do not!'

Qui-Gon pushes the Hold button with a certain amount of satisfaction. That'll teach the daft old dwarf to set the Ewok National Anthem as the on-hold music.

'Who's that?' Obi-Wan asks loudly over the din of the band. Qui-Gon scowls.

'Yoda. I have a feeling I'm about to get an earful.'

'Oooh, I want to hear this! Put it on loudspeaker, would you?' Obi-Wan says eagerly, following Qui-Gon outside into the street. Qui-Gon glares at him.

'If you dare say anything like 'I told you so' I'll tell all your friends about that time you split your trousers during your physical exam. _And_ I'll put the vid up on the Holonet.'

Obi-Wan looks suitably cowed, and Qui-Gon presses his comlink again.

'Master Yoda? You still there?'

'That on-hold soundtrack we must change! Whoever programmed it, punish them I will!'

'Yoda, it was you who set that up.'

'Hmm. Forgotten that I had. Change it I will.'

'That would be appreciated. Anyway, what's this about?'

'Received a call from the Tatooine police, I have. Here for the Hutt mission, they say you are. Understand this I do not!'

'Erm... I can explain...'

'Most unhappy, Master Windu is. Stolen his mission, he says you have.'

'Yes, yes, I know – look, just let me explain, would you? We crashed on Tatooine because I missed the hyper-jump to Brentaal. The ship's going to take a few days to fix, so I figured I could sort out the Hutts while I'm here, then go to Brentaal afterwards.'

'See how this concerns the police, I do not.'

'Well, I made a start on collecting some information, but I accidentally crashed a speeder while doing so, and the police got involved. To be fair, it wasn't my fault, the speeder was a pile of crap...'

'Blame the speeder you should not: a pile of crap your driving is. But beside the point, this all is. Confused I still am. Nowhere near Brentaal, Tatooine is.'

'Master Yoda, as you probably already know, Qui-Gon's sense of direction is sometimes less than perfect,' Obi-Wan cuts in, 'and besides, he was– oowww!' he yelps as Qui-Gon treads on his foot.

'Sorry, Padawan, was that your toe? How clumsy of me,' Qui-Gon comments loudly. Yoda snorts.

'Enough. Qui-Gon, a right pig's ear of this you have made – '

'OK, so I screwed up a bit on the directions. But I can't help it if the police have nothing better to do than be obstructive!'

'Still talking I was. Interrupt me again you will not!'

'Sorry.'

'A pig's ear of this you have made, but one more chance I will give you. Do the Hutt mission you will, and if balls it up you do, then supervising the younglings' bedtime for a month you will be!'

'But I... bloody hell, Yoda! That is cruel and unusual punishment!' Qui-Gon complains, but Yoda has already hung up. He closes his comlink, scowling.

'Wonderful. More work. Not to mention the fact that Mace Windbag's going to absolutely murder me at the next Council session. Shit, I've really messed this up, haven't I?'

'I told you we should've – '

'What was that you just said, Padawan?'

'Erm – '

Obi-Wan's sentence is swallowed by an explosion and a lot of shouting from the bar, then Jar Jar comes crashing through a window with a yodel of 'A-wooo!' He lands heavily on Qui-Gon, who isn't very impressed.

'Jar Jar, why can you never do anything without causing utter chaos? Who did you upset this time?'

'My dunno. My just finding new mooloo, moy moy yum yum, then boom, meeser getting very scared, then pow! Meeser here.'

The two Jedi share a resigned look. They've heard that line a few times before, and usually it results in a lot of shouting and paperwork when they get back to the Council.

'Honestly, we can't take you anywhere. Where's Shmi?'

'My not sure.'

'Sheesh, do I have to do everything around here? Jar Jar, you stay here and do NOT get in any more trouble or I'll use your ears as a hyperdrive belt _with them still attached to your head_. Obi-Wan, come on, let's go and kick some ass– I mean, rescue damsels in distress.'


End file.
